


in the sickness, you are free

by kilgraves



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Demon Stiles Stilinski, Demon!Stiles, Demons, M/M, Manipulation, Possession, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-07
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 11:00:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1172255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kilgraves/pseuds/kilgraves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>(Let me in. Let me fix you…)</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The voice is in his head again, and he wants to tell Derek, wants to <em>warn</em> him, but he can’t get any part of his body to work - no matter how hard he tries. His eyes are sliding closed now, he can’t keep them open, not when they’re this hazy, not when it’s getting so <em>dark</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in, like, an hour today because I needed to write some demon!stiles. I wasn't sure whether to rate it mature or explicit, so I went with explicit just to be safe. The title comes from "Skin" by Zola Jesus.
> 
> Also, you can find me [here](http://snugglyscisaac.tumblr.com) on Tumblr :)

Derek senses something’s wrong about twenty seconds before the door to the loft slides open. He can smell it in the air, can even taste it on the tip of his tongue; copper and salt and rust, mixing together. It’s all too strong for him to work out who the underlying scent belongs to, but he knows whatever’s happened isn’t good.

Moving quickly to see who’s in the doorway, his eyes widen at the sight of Stiles, bruised and shaking, a steady stream of blood dripping from his mouth. His hoodie is torn, deep gashes showing through the rips, and his breathing is shallow. He sways on the spot, trying to reach out for something he can use to steady himself with, but his arms are limp and his knees already buckling. 

“ _Stiles,_ " Derek gasps, dashing forward to catch the boy before he hits the floor and holding him close, "What… _God_ , what happened? Who did this to you?”

Stiles opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out - only a tiny, agonized whimper of pain. He’s too weak, too broken, breath catching in his throat as he chokes on his own blood. 

_(Let me in. Let me fix you…)_

The voice is in his head again, and he wants to tell Derek, wants to  _warn_  him, but he can’t get any part of his body to work - no matter how hard he tries. His eyes are sliding closed now, he can’t keep them open, not when they’re this hazy, not when it’s getting so _dark_.

"Stiles, _no_ ,” Derek pleads, pressing a warm hand to Stiles’ cheek, trying desperately to keep him awake, “You can’t sleep, okay? You can’t… I can’t lose you.” 

_(It’ll be okay, I promise. I’m going to help you. I’ll make everything better.)_

He just barely registers the feeling of shaky lips pressing against his forehead, and tries to smile. Derek’s fumbling with the back pocket of his jeans, pulling his phone out and struggling to call for help. 

(If I let you… will you promise not to hurt him, or Scott, or anyone?)

_(I promise. Now, let go, Stiles. It’s going to be alright. Just let me in…)_

(Okay. I’m ready.)

It opens his eyes, and the werewolf immediately recoils, letting go of Stiles’ body and snarling under his breath. Cold, black eyes stare back at him - from where he used to take comfort in warm, honey brown - and when it smiles, its teeth are still red with blood from Stiles’ mouth. It’s quick to stand up, unfazed by the injuries still evident on Stiles’ body. 

"Easy there, wolfy," the thing chuckles, speaking with Stiles’ voice, eyes glinting maliciously, "Buy me a drink first."

Derek’s teeth are bared, his claws out, when he hisses, “Where’s Stiles? What have you done to him?”

It feigns offense, and then shrugs, “Oh, I haven’t done a thing to your precious human. He gave me permission to be here right now. He _wanted_ me to take control.” It breaks off, as if listening to something Derek can’t hear, and then its lips stretch wide in an evil smile, “I can still hear him, up here,” it gestures to Stiles’ forehead, indicating his brain, “You know, he likes you a _lot_ , mutt. Thinks about you all the time.” 

"Don’t," Derek growls, trying not to look at the thing, but unable to tear his eyes away.

It waggles its eyebrows, before murmuring, “Can’t tell you how many times he’s thought about you when he gets himself off in his room, fucking into his hand, nice and slow. There’s so many things he wants you to do to him, to this body - some of them are almost filthy enough to make _me_ blush.” 

“ _Stop it_ ,” he spits, and the wolf inside of him is howling now, telling him to claw and rip and bite - but it’s still Stiles. “Get out of him or I swear to _god_ , I’ll-,”

The thing laughs again, high and mocking, so unlike Stiles that it sends shivers down Derek’s spine, “You’ll what? Kill me? Come on, Derek - you know you can’t hurt me without hurting him. And either way, he’ll probably already be dead once I’m through with his body. He was right on the edge when he let me in.”

"I’m going to kill you," Derek breathes, white hot anger lacing every syllable, "Not Stiles - _you_.” 

It lifts Stiles’ head to lock eyes with Derek, black staring into red, and smirks, “Give it your best shot, big guy.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can always be found [here](http://snugglyscisaac.tumblr.com) on Tumblr :)

Derek doesn’t remember lunging at Stiles. He doesn’t remember knocking him to the ground, onto his back - and he definitely doesn’t remember the way the thing inside of Stiles had laughed, cold and inhuman. 

And yet, here they are. 

He's got the thing pinned beneath him and one of his hands is raised, claws out - ready to strike, rip, _kill_. But then he sees the darkness dissipating from Stiles' eyes, familiar, warm, honey brown clouding the black. 

"Derek?" Stiles whispers, and Derek knows it's really him this time, "Fuck, Derek, I didn't," he winces as a twinge of pain shoots through him, deep red staining his t-shirt again, now that the demon isn't stopping it, "I didn't mean for this to h-happen, please - you have to _know_ that-," 

But just as soon as Derek gets him back, Stiles breaks off and sinister darkness returns to his eyes, drowning out his humanity and pushing him out of the driver's seat as the demon twists his mouth into a sly grin, teeth stained with remnants of blood. 

"Look at you," Stiles' voice mocks, black eyes staring right through him, "Big, bad wolf can't do anything to save his anchor."

Derek's about to respond, but it flips him onto his back and climbs on top of him, holding him down with astonishing force, one hand at his throat. 

"It doesn't have to be like this," the thing breathes, fingers dancing across the skin of Derek's neck tauntingly, "You can still have him. I know how badly you want that - I can smell it on you. Even now, when you  _know_ how wrong this is, you're still hard for him. That's pretty pathetic, mutt." Derek tries to move, but its grip tightens around his windpipe, holding him in place. "I can give you what you want. I can be him, you know." 

"Fuck you," Derek manages to choke out through gritted teeth, "Don't you fucking  _dare_."

It's like deja vu. 

Stiles' eyes bloom back to their true color, but he knows the demon's still in control, knows it isn't reallyStiles gazing down at him. It's just a game, and it hurts way more than anything the demon has done so far, because if Derek didn't know better, he'd believe that he had him back.

He  _wants_ to believe it. 

"I bet this is killing you, isn't it?" It smirks, leaning down to breathe in his scent, "You reek with it all, raw emotion - the rage, the contempt," it waggles Stiles' eyebrows, "the  _desire_." 

Derek snarls, "You're not him."

"Oh no?" The demon scoots forward so that he's sitting on Derek's chest, holding his arms in place with Stiles' knees. As much as he struggles, it isn't even a contest - the thing is five times stronger than him. So when it starts to un-zip Stiles' jeans and snakes a hand under the waistband of his briefs, all he can do is watch it happen. It's quick to pull Stiles' cock out, and Derek hisses as it starts to stroke up and down, swiping a thumb over the head. "If that's the case, then why does this still get you so hot, wolf boy? Are you just that easy? That desperate to have your way with this kid?"

When Derek doesn't say anything in response, the demon reaches down to grab him by his hair, forces him to look into Stiles' eyes. He tries to take comfort in the fact that the human is still inside somewhere, that he isn't lost to him forever, but then the demon chuckles, "Show him how badly you want him. I want to see you put that mouth to use." 

Even as the werewolf tries to pull away, he still can't move, and when it yanks him forward, he gives in, opening his mouth and letting Stiles' cock slip inbetween his lips. The demon smiles, moving to grasp the back of Derek's neck and letting him take him in all the way. 

"You know what the best part about this is, mutt?" It murmurs, followed by a shallow thrust of Stiles' hips, "He's just as desperate for it as you are. He's got all these fantasies about you opening him up, fucking him until he can't see straight and he comes all over himself. He'd beg for it, and you'd _love_ it." 

Derek growls, trying not to focus on anything but Stiles' scent, on the way he looks when he's telling him off or when he takes the pack through one of his (genius) plans. He can feel him hitting the back of his throat, can hear the demon snickering as it keeps moving, and when he opens his eyes again, Stiles' are black once more.

Somehow, that makes it easier for him to do what it wants him to. 

"Good boy," the demon praises, mockingly, grinning at the mixture of spit and pre-come shining around his mouth, "Want to hear what he sounds like when he gets himself off thinking about you?" 

And then it's moaning, little pants escaping Stiles' lips, and Derek wishes he could move because all he wants to do is make it stop. It runs a hand across his cheek, nails scratching at his skin as it continues to whimper, hips dragging back and forth. 

When it comes, bitter liquid floods his mouth, making him gag, and he can hear it laughing when he swallows. It climbs off of him, but he doesn't move - he can't get himself to do anything. He doesn't _feel_ anything. 

"Well, it's been fun, but I'd better be going now," the demon tells him as it makes its way over to the door of the loft, still open from when Stiles had first arrived, before all of this had happened. "I'll be seeing you again real soon, wolfy."  

The door slides shut behind it, and then Derek's alone, covered in dried blood and shaking. 

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is my favorite thing so be sure to leave me some! :)


End file.
